The Haven
by cinder-wolf13
Summary: When Hogwarts' brightest student and most hated Professor are sent away from the war together, what happens? Who's side is Snape on, anyway? Rating is general and will not apply for quite a few chapters. AU but contains HBP and some DH elements.
1. Chapter 1

a/n: welcome to a new fic by a new writer. it's AU, but does contain HBP elements. will be SS/HG later on.

disclaimer: only going to put this on the first chapter. you know the drill. they arent mine (of course they arent..) and i make no money from them (of course i don't). so, enjoy!

* * *

CHAPTER ONE 

"…It's for your own protection, Miss Granger," warned the headmaster, a hint of exasperation creeping into his usually calm voice. The witch before him was beginning to understand that he was not going to relent in his stupid scheme to get her away from the war.

"In light of all the threats you've been receiving-" he faltered, pondering the best way to reiterate the sentiment he'd expressed so many times before. "Surely you can understand your parents' concern for your safety?" Hermione did not raise her head to argue with him, which he took as a good sign. "This does not shut you out from the work of the Order; in fact, I think it could make you one of the key members in the months to come-" he was interrupted by an incredulous "Sir?" before he finished his statement. Hermione's head had snapped upwards and she was staring at him as if he had just grown wings.

"You think that by sending me to some safe house in the middle of nowhere you're going to make me a 'key member' of the Order? By sending me out alone to go mad, just so I 'don't get hurt'! You're not sending Harry and Ron away! Why can't I fight with them like I always have? Do you really think me incapable of making my own decisions?!" She looked set to continue her rant, but was silenced by a look from the headmaster.

"Miss Granger," he began, wishing she would lose the defiant look she was carrying and accept the plan, "you will not be alone, and I assure you that you will be doing important work for the Order; I hope you understand why I can't tell you exactly what at such a time. I do not, in fact, know all the details myself but you can be sure you will be of value. We will contact your new house using protean-charmed parchment, so we will remain in touch. I know you will miss your friends and your studies but we must all make sacrifices for this war. You will be able to take all your belongings with you."

The ever-occupied mind of Hermione Granger was racing. She could tell she wasn't going to be able to get out of this. She would miss Harry and Ron and Hogwarts but if she really was going to help the Order defeat Voldemort, she wouldn't be spending her time grieving her loss of freedom. It was a small price to pay compared to the task Harry had. A few months wasn't so long in the scheme of things. Almost imperceptibly, she nodded her head.

"Excellent!" beamed Dumbledore. "You must leave tomorrow. The school will hear that your parents chose to take you home for your safety. Pack your belongings and say your goodbyes." The twinkle was back in his eyes, but there was a lead weight in her chest.

"You're sure you'll take care of my parents?" she asked on the way to the door.

"I have made their house unplottable, my dear," the old wizard replied kindly, "They will be safe there. I am sorry you cannot remain with them, but your work may prove vital – I feel it is best under the circumstances if you and your companion remain alone." She nodded and let herself out of the circular room.

* * *

It was the longest, and yet the shortest walk to Gryffindor tower she ever remembered. What would she say to Harry and Ron? They were bound to think she was trying to hide away. Though the threats had shaken her, she had not wanted to try and escape. She of all of them had always understood what it meant to stand so publicly against Voldemort. With a sigh, she gave the password and entered the common room. 

Harry and Ron lounged in their usual seats by the fire, deep in their game of wizard's chess and talking in whispers. They quieted as she approached.

"What did Dumbledore want?" Ron asked as she sat beside them. She took a deep breath.

"Well…" The breath wasn't enough. She took another. "He wants…" She swallowed. "He wants me to leave Hogwarts." She rushed the words and waited for them to sink in.

"What?" said Ron, either in incredulity or because he hadn't heard properly.

"Leave Hogwarts?" Harry looked like he didn't understand. She decided she'd have to elaborate on her own. Looking around to check no one was listening, she began.

"He says I have to go to a safe house because of the threats, and he wants me to work with someone on something that will help us defeat Voldemort, but he won't tell me who or what…" she trailed off, realising she didn't know what else to say about it. It was all so vague. Ron didn't seem worried.

"You can just tell him you won't go, right?" He looked up at her, fully expecting an affirmative answer. She looked down and shook her head.

"He won't let me stay," she said in a small voice. "He seems to think it's too important. I know it's horrible and surely you know I don't want to go, but… but well, it's not my decision… you can contact me with some Protean parchment Dumbledore is setting up; he doesn't want to use owls or anything. He says I have to leave in the morning." This time it was Harry who spoke up.

"In the morning?" His face carried an expression Hermione had never seen before. She nodded.

"There's nothing we can do. Maybe you'll be able to come and visit me sometime… I don't see why you can't…" Finally the realisation hit her and she collapsed sobbing onto her friends.

* * *

Sleep came uneasily to Hogwarts' Head Girl that night, alone in her room. Despite staying up very late to see her friends for as long as possible, she couldn't clear her mind enough to rest. Who would she be working with? She thought of several people but dismissed them as soon as they entered her mind. With her trunk packed and Crookshanks in his basket, there was nothing to do but try and sleep. Eventually she slipped into uncomfortable dreams of loneliness, torture and Voldemort. She awoke at dawn still exhausted and somewhat worried that the threats had seeped their way into her subconscious. Getting up, she decided to have a bath and prepare herself as much as possible for a day full of the unknown. The familiar surroundings of the bathroom and the comforting scent of bath oil soothed her until she felt ready to go to breakfast in the Great Hall. 

Leaving her rooms was harder than she'd expected, but she tried to push any sentimental thoughts out of her mind as she made her way to breakfast. Joining Ron and Harry at the table, she began piling egg and bacon onto her plate. What would they do about food wherever she was going? There were so many things she didn't know. Deep in contemplation, she barely noticed the owl until it had landed right in front of her. Unfastening the note, she read:

_Main gate, ten minutes._

Whoever had penned it clearly didn't feel like wasting words. She crumpled the missive and returned to her breakfast, looking around her to try and remember every detail of the magnificent room.

"Still be here when you get back, you know," said Harry through a mouth of toast. The comforting words hit her like stones – was it true? If the war was lost, there might not be a Hogwarts anymore. She might never return.

It was pointless thinking that way, so she smiled and nodded. It was time to leave. Getting up and smoothing her robes, she summoned her Gryffindor courage and headed outside.

Their goodbyes were almost formal. There was so much and yet so little to say to each other that wasn't already known, or that hadn't already been said.

"I'll be back," she choked, blinking furiously to try and stop the tears. "Don't forget the parchment, and don't forget to try and visit me… Make sure you do your homework!" The last sentence was so typically Hermione that everyone had to smile, but ten minutes had passed, so with a quick hug she was forced to put her friends behind her and run down to the gates. It was going to be a long few months, she was sure of it.

* * *

Just outside the gate, Hermione was faced with what looked like about half the Order. Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Moody and Molly Weasley were there along with several other figures too far away to make out. She was stunned by the huge security Dumbledore had placed on the area, but managed to smile warmly and hug Molly with some attempt at normality. 

"You got the note, then," came Kingsley's gruff voice. "Dammed post owls can be so unreliable…" Hermione nodded in an offhand way, feeling lost for words.

"We've got a portkey for you," Molly said shakily. "We're not allowed to come with you. Dumbledore said he would rather we never saw the place. Are you alright, dear?" She brushed some imaginary dust from Hermione's robes and pulled her into another embrace.

"Let's get moving," growled Moody, his magical eye rotating manically. "Here's the portkey." He handed her a muggle tin of baked beans brightly displaying the caption 'Heinz: 57 varieties!' "Just tap it with your wand. You should arrive in the kitchen. Dumbledore says your companion will be along tomorrow morning and your belongings are already there." She thought she detected a hint of wariness over the word 'companion', but couldn't be sure of it. Too off-balance to think of a suitable question or anything else to say, Hermione drew her wand and nodded a farewell.

"Good luck, Hermione, dear," said Molly, "everything will be just fi-" The words were cut off with a familiar tug behind her navel as she activated the portkey.

* * *

Severus Snape strode through the dungeons in a towering rage. His life, a mess from the best of angles, had just grown a million times worse. The façade hiding his emotions threatened to crumble. For the first time in forty odd years, he wanted to scream. As if running between a madman and… well, another madman, wasn't enough, he now had to lose the one source of stability and respite he had. It was enough to drive anyone insane, he reasoned. 

"…Tell the old fool you have been discovered spying on me," said the first madman.

"…It's for your own protection, Severus," said the second. So here he was, about to go to some safe house with Hogwarts' Most Annoying, caught between a Dark Lord who thought he was undertaking his most cunning spying ever and a sugar-crazed headmaster who thought he was in mortal danger since being discovered by the above Dark Lord. It was becoming progressively more difficult to remember who believed what about him. It had been a very long time since he considered what he believed about himself, in fact. He did not choose sides. He played his parts. He waited.

His bags were packed and his rooms all empty. The new Potions Master – or, as it was, the old Potions Master – Horace Slughorn, would be arriving first thing in the morning. The Granger girl was already in the accommodation they were meant to be sharing. He hated to think what life – if one could refer to it as life – would be like over the next few months. He could not abandon the Dark Lord, and yet the headmaster seemed intent on him working with Granger on some Order-related business. Naturally, he had flatly refused, but naturally, he had a nasty feeling that the refusal would not do him any good. It was going to be hard explaining his absences to the girl; some improvisation would likely be on the cards. All in all, the situation looked to be the stuff of nightmares whatever light you put on it.

* * *

A cold, mirthless laugh echoed off a stone wall in a room that was nowhere. With the servant in the "safe house" and the old fool believing his spying days over, the war had suddenly taken a delightful turn in his direction. Yes – it was all working out very nicely indeed. The man was a natural spy; observant as a hawk and quiet as a mouse. They would never know where the leak was until he had cornered all of them.

* * *

Hermione appeared in the middle of what seemed to be a completely average, unremarkable and very muggle kitchen. Out of paranoid habit she turned all the way around, surveying her surroundings. Moody would have been pleased, she thought. In front of her were French doors revealing a small garden. A rickety fence surrounded the plot and she couldn't see anything beyond it, rather like the ground dropped suddenly away. She then let herself outside and discovered that in fact the ground _did_ drop suddenly away. Very suddenly. As a matter of fact, her house was rather precariously perched on the top of a large cliff. 

Having been a mild vertigo sufferer all her life, Hermione did not take well to this new turn of events. Clinging to the fence she dared to look down briefly, which she knew immediately to be a mistake. At least four miles below, (several hundred feet, anyway) jade waves crashed brightly onto some jaggedly picturesque rocks. She realised she was still holding the tin of beans and edged away from the fence to set them down inside. Trying to forget the altitude, she went to explore the rest of the house. Telling herself she was actually much closer to sea level than at Hogwarts did nothing to ease her sense of being much too high up.

The rest of the house was as average as the kitchen, she found as she searched each room in turn. Downstairs, aside from the kitchen, there was a small bathroom, a living room with a dining table and a TV, and a warded door. According to a note spellotaped to it, she was not to try and enter until her companion joined her. She hoped it was to be the place where they would work and nothing more sinister meaning that she would require someone with her. There was no space on the ground floor for a room behind the door, so either it was magically extended inside or it led to a basement. She hoped it was the former but, given the muggle nature of the house, rather feared it was the latter. Putting the thought out of her mind, she climbed the stairs.

In a cream coloured room overlooking the beach she found her trunk and Crookshanks. As she let him out he pounced into her arms, almost bowling her over.

"Oh, poor Crooks… I know, baby…" she talked in soothing tones. "It's a strange new place, but we'll be okay." She batted his paws playfully and he tried to catch her fingers. "Be careful in the garden," she added, "don't you ever go past the fence." As if to discover why his mistress was warning him, the ginger tom bounded out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen door. By the time Hermione reached him he was angrily clawing the glass. "Hey! Leave it alone," she laughed, letting him outside.

As the cat neared the fence, he slowed and seemed to survey the scene. He gingerly pushed his head through the posts and looked down. Almost before she had chance to react, Hermione found her arms once more full of orange fur. She giggled in a way entirely unlike her. At least that made two of them who didn't like the drop.

* * *

As the day drew to a close, Hermione wondered how she was ever going to survive several months with just this unremarkable house to entertain her. The only other rooms upstairs were a second bedroom and a bathroom. She had unpacked her trunk, marvelled at the distinct lack of interesting possessions she owned, and aimlessly wandered back downstairs. She prayed that whoever would be staying with her would be pleasant or interesting enough to alleviate the unceasing boredom the next few months was looking set to provide. 

Deciding to take a walk out the front of the small house, she soon discovered that something very strange was happening. Though she could not really feel a magical wall surrounding the property, it was clear that she was not going to be able to get further than just outside the garden gate. There was a small gravel path running from the gate over the clifftop as far as she could see. She could not step onto it. She could not apparate onto it. She could not touch it in any way. Her heart sank as she realised she was completely trapped. Trapped by a huge cliff and a magical wall, and completely cut off from civilization. It didn't take her long to construct a charm to show her the wards. On top of the Fidelius Charm that hid them, there was some kind of charm to make muggles avoid the spot, much like the charm on Hogwarts. There was also an anti-apparition spell and several kinds of barrier she didn't recognise. Her cage almost felt more constricting for the lack of visible bars. She could see the beautiful countryside extending beyond her mile after mile, but she could not touch it.

There was nothing to be gained dwelling on her complete captivity. As a test, she attempted to make a portkey out of a fork, but it would not activate. There was no fireplace with floo powder and so no way she knew of to leave. Defeated, she fished around the kitchen for something to eat, but every cupboard was empty. She found every kind of plate and bowl and knife and spoon and fork, but no food. She retired to the sofa in the living room, starving, lonely and thoroughly miserable. In fact, she had never believed she would be so pleased to see a television set.

* * *

It was quarter to nine. She was starving. She was bored. Crookshanks was out. 

"I want some food…" she didn't know if her voice came out as a scream or a sob. However it came out, there was now a piece of parchment floating in front of her. She frowned, hopeful. Pulling out her quill and some ink she experimentally wrote "fish and chips". The parchment disappeared. At first she thought nothing had happened, but when she went into the kitchen she found a large plate piled with muggle-style fish and chips. As she shovelled huge lumps of fish into her mouth, she considered the food's origin. It must have come from Hogwarts. It was clear that the food was always going to appear on this table, but she wondered how it reached here. At Hogwarts, the kitchens were directly below the house tables. There must have been a lot of complex magic involved, but right now all she wanted to was stuff her mouth full of as much food as possible, dieting be damned.

When she had finished, she found the remains did indeed fade from her plate like at Hogwarts. On a whim, she said aloud "I wish I had an apple." An apple promptly appeared on her plate. Feeling thirsty, she added "Can I have some orange juice too, please?" As if in answer to her question, a goblet appeared next to her plate. She almost felt bad for the house elves and thought about SPEW, but decided she was in an extreme situation and had no other way of eating.

* * *

Hogwarts' most hated Professor had one more night to spend in the castle he called home. He'd had the day off to pack, but did not feel better for the lack of annoying students to teach. In fact, he almost felt he would have valued the distraction. The whole school was at that moment being told that he was very ill and would not be teaching for a while, if at all. It made him smirk in a very humourless way to think of the expressions of joy on the students' faces to think of his imminent and painful demise.

* * *

At that moment there were five students who were not trying to hide their pleased expressions. Crabbe and Goyle laughed outright, knowing from their families that Snape was on a special mission that would bring down Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy's face showed a mix of emotions – regret, confusion and loneliness. Nobody noticed. Over at the Gryffindor table, Harry and Ron exchanged a scared look. They left the hall for the privacy of the common room immediately. 

"What do you think?" Harry was the first to speak.

"I don't know," replied Ron. Something was not right - Snape was mysteriously ill at the same time as Hermione had to leave.

"It's got to be him," said Harry darkly. Ron gave a small nod.

"How could Dumbledore do that? Maybe it's just a coincidence." Harry seemed to be trying to convince himself.

"There's nothing wrong with Snape," said Ron. "Health wise," he added with a smile. "Get the map out." Five minutes later, with the map spread out between them, Ron located Snape's dot moving around in his office. They sighed.

"Clearly he's not ill… or not _that_ ill, at least…" For once it was Ron that seemed calmer.

"How could Dumbledore do it?" Harry was getting angry fast.

"Harry, think about it, mate, there's probably something we don't know… Hermione can look after herself, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. It's hardly like the git will want to see her, anyway, so she won't have to put up with him much."

"But they were meant to be working together… that thing Dumbledore wouldn't tell her about." People were arriving back from dinner so they vacated the common room and went up to the dormitory.

* * *

Not having much else to do, Hermione tested out the shower (perfectly average, as predicted) and climbed into bed. Her housemate would arrive in the morning and she felt she might as well be rested for it. Idly stroking Crookshanks' fur, she drifted to sleep.

* * *

"…I assure you, Miss Granger will be perfectly safe with Professor Snape, and I will hear no more on the matter. This parchment will let you contact her – I also have a copy that leads to the same receiving parchment. There is no reason to fear for her. Now, I think, it is time for bed." Harry took the parchment and left the office alongside his red-haired friend. 

"I still don't like it," he muttered.

"You realise Dumbledore gets to read everything we write to Hermione…" Ron scowled as he spoke. "I thought he was meant to trust us."

"We'll find a way," mused Harry. Some time later he added, "or, Hermione will…" They both laughed, and decided to go straight to bed.

* * *

Hermione struggled out of bed, disengaged herself from Crookshanks and stumbled to the bathroom. As usual, her hair was a mass of fuzzy curls and her eyes were still half closed. She splashed water on her face and brushed her hair. Once she had completed her ablutions she made her way downstairs for breakfast. 

Passing the living room door she met the worst, strangest and most frightening sight she had ever seen. Severus Snape was stretched out on the sofa, stabbing the remote control wildly and scowling. The scowl deepened as he noticed her.

"Granger," he snarled.

* * *

a/n: if you could leave a review, it would make my day:)


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Resisting the urge to faint, Hermione drew herself up to her full height and said simply, "Snape." The seconds ticked away between them. The scowl lines in the man's face appeared so deeply etched Hermione doubted whether he would ever be able to use any other expression. Clearing her throat slightly, she added, "It's the red button." After more time had passed and he made no move to press the button or speak, she shrugged and left to get the breakfast she had originally come down for.

* * *

Once safely in the kitchen, she allowed a small tremor to run through her before composing herself and saying quietly, "some tea and toast, please." Almost before the words left her mouth the food was before her. She tucked in, a surprisingly small portion of her mind choosing to dwell on the problem in the living room. She was going to have to live with it and that was that. She seemed to recall hoping that her companion was 'pleasant or interesting'. Well, the latter was definitely true, so she supposed in a way she might end up grateful. That was, if he didn't first hex her to death. She remembered the warded door with dread, and wondered if he had already been through it. With a sigh, she resigned herself to asking about it.

* * *

What in all of flaming hell was a Toshiba VTD1431?? And what did 'the red button' do? According to the front panel, the box was equipped with 'Dolby Digital Surround Sound' and 'DTS Digital Out', but he was at a loss to know just how this would benefit him. Curious against his better nature, he decided to press the button the insufferable Granger girl had directed him to. 

Almost at once he regretted the choice. As the screen flickered to life, his ears were treated to a barrage of sound not unlike a cauldron exploding. In fact, the image seemed to be showing a rather spectacular Muggle car crash. An American narrator was proudly saying something about incredible 'special effects'. He violently hit the red button once more, shutting off the picture. His trip had already gone from bad to worse – evidently, it was starting as it meant to go on. As if that wasn't enough, Granger had reappeared in the doorway, arms folded across her chest and a smug expression on her face.

* * *

Hearing the loud disturbance in the living room, Hermione crammed the remaining toast into her mouth and headed towards to source of the noise. What she saw very nearly caused her to choke up the mouthful she'd so hastily swallowed. Severus Snape, heroic spy for the Order - or loyal Death Eater - was glaring at the TV set with folded arms and a petulant scowl on his face. All in all, he looked just like a child who had received the wrong toy for Christmas. She couldn't help it. She laughed at him. 

Afterwards, she could see why that particular action may have been unwise, but she really couldn't help it. Before she knew what was happening, she was being roughly shaken by the shoulders and yelled at so loudly she could barely make out the words at all. She caught 'insolent', 'insufferable' and possibly 'stupid', but didn't take anything too much to heart. Instead, she reminded the Professor about the warded door. He dropped her with disgust and stalked out of the room.

* * *

The door was still warded with the spellotaped note attached. He ripped it off like it was personally offending him and gruffly said, "Viennese whirl." At that moment two things happened. First, the warded door sprang open to reveal a dark stairway, and second, a Viennese whirl appeared on the kitchen table. Luckily, it was only Hermione who noticed the second happening. Sneakily she crammed it into her mouth and swallowed. After all, Snape may not yet know how to request food. Why would she want him to find out so easily? Without analysing the distinctly Slytherin thing she had just done, she followed him down the staircase. 

The long basement they found themselves in was very like the Potions classroom at Hogwarts, minus the teaching podium and the desks. Instead, two benches ran the length of the room. Shelves on the walls stocked what looked to be every ingredient in existence that could possibly be used in a potion. There were also several old potions texts. The light from Snape's wand threw long shadows along the walls. Casually she looked to her left and flicked the light switch. Clearly the man still had a lot to learn, or relearn, about Muggles. Ignoring the glare he threw her, she advanced into the room, noticing an empty cupboard and a roll of parchment on one of the benches. Before she could pick it up, he snatched it out from under her hand.

His eyes flicked frantically from left to right as he read, the expression on his face darkening with every line. Clearly it was an outline of their project, and equally clearly, Snape was not happy with it. Idly, Hermione wondered if he knew exactly how trapped they really were. Personally, she was having a few theories about how to get through that wall, but she wasn't about to share them with him. Besides, she didn't know how wise it would be to break out of something that was there as much for their safety as their imprisonment. She hadn't even begun to wonder why it was him that had to accompany her, although the project was obviously a potion. Something else must have happened. She frowned to herself.

"MISS GRANGER!" bellowed Snape for the third time. What in hell was she thinking about that meant she had gone completely deaf? Luckily for him, that last attempt to rouse her had apparently been successful.

"Professor Snape?" she replied, wondering how she had managed to completely ignore him and how she could replicate it. Such a tool would definitely be useful in the months to come.

"This parchment details our-" he fished disdainfully for the word – "… I _task_ /I . I wish to unpack my belongings and will not tolerate any disturbance. We will meet here tomorrow morning, where I will describe our project to you. Be grateful I have chosen to include you at all." He swept from the room, pausing at the door to add:

"I do not wish to see you outside of this room, do you understand me?" She considered telling him just how little she wanted to see him at all, but thought better of it and simply nodded.

"Are you now mute as well as deaf, Miss Granger? I believe I asked if you understood." She narrowed her eyes.

"I understand." He waited. "Sir." Finally he left in a swirl of black fabric. If he wasn't going to lose that classroom persona, she decided, several months was going to quite easily turn into several years.

Shutting off the light and climbing the staircase, she decided to try one of her theories into getting through the wall. After all, solving puzzles was what she did best.

"Crooks!" she called from the front garden. The ginger cat poked his head out from behind a small shrub. "There you are! I want to see if you can get through this wall…" Picking up the large furball she dropped him neatly the other side of the gate. Sure enough, he trotted onto the gravel path. "Thought so," she muttered. As an afterthought she added to the cat, "Stay away from Professor Snape. I expect he could use some part of you in a potion. Or as dinner, anyway." Crookshanks looked up with wide eyes before heading off to explore the world beyond the gate.

Eyes flashing, Hermione ran to her room to reread anything she owned on the subject of Animagi.

* * *

Severus Snape was, predictably, furious. Not only was he currently completely trapped in the house, but the Granger girl apparently wanted them to achieve some kind of friendly companionship. Who did she think he was? 

Maybe Dumbledore knew more about the Dark Lord's plan than he let on. Maybe he just thought he was liable to running off and getting himself killed. Either way, the wall around the property was ominous. He refused to give up; there had to be a way. First he would unpack his things. Then he was going to read every damn thing his library had to say about Animagi.

* * *

"Focus…" Even the gargantuan attention span of Hermione Granger was wearing out. How long had Harry said his father had taken to become an animagus? A year? Clearly she did not have that long. She had to relax her mind like she would when transfiguring any object, but still had to concentrate on changing her own form. It was proving very difficult. Still, no challenge had ever bested her in the past.

* * *

How could he concentrate when he was so hungry? Transfiguration had never been his strong suit but this was turning out to be devilishly tricky. He wondered how that idiot Black had ever done it. It was this thought that drove him on; that stupid mongrel was not going to beat him at anything. It couldn't be that hard… still, he was very hungry. Having had a look in the kitchen around lunchtime he was at a loss to explain how the girl appeared to have been eating breakfast. There was no food in sight, and no evidence that there had been any. She knew something he didn't (damn the headmaster) – but he wasn't about to ask her. He would rather starve to death.

* * *

Realising it was half past six and she hadn't had any lunch, Hermione headed for the kitchen. She felt she had progressed in her search for her animal form, but still wasn't anywhere near assuming it. Checking that the ground floor was Snape-free, she quietly ordered 'whatever they're having at Hogwarts' and was faced with a plate full of sausages, mashed potato and vegetables and a glass of pumpkin juice. Tucking in, she thought for the first time about the project Dumbledore had arranged for them. Snape hadn't known what it was, she assumed. It seemed likely to be either difficult or dangerous – probably both. The sort of thing even Snape wouldn't mind an assistant on, whether he liked it or not. 

"I don't appreciate you spying on me, Professor Snape," she said, having noticed his reflection in the French doors. "After all, you did say you didn't want to see me outside the lab." Inside she was laughing, knowing he desperately wanted to ask how she got her dinner. Well, she wasn't going to give up her information without being asked. She went back to eating, not expecting any reply from the man.

When she had finished, she asked for an apple, which she took upstairs. Passing the door to Snape's room she said nonchalantly, "If you want something, Professor, all you have to do is ask."

Laughing at her double meaning, she bit into her apple and returned to her book on advanced transfiguration.

* * *

Snape growled to himself. Just why Granger would talk to him in those tones was beyond him. Even if he did admit to himself that she had grown up and was no longer technically his student (which he very much didn't), he didn't understand why someone of her character would waste words on him. He had not said a kind or even barely civil thing to her since he arrived, but she seemed determined to get along with him. He put it down to her desire for a challenge and kept her out of his mind as much as possible. 

He did not seem to be getting anywhere with his transfiguration. His concentration was as perfect as it had ever been, apart from the gnawing hunger, but there was something lacking. He had to get something to eat before he could continue.

Not knowing quite how he got there or what had got into him, he found himself outside the girl's door. It was stupid, but he was hungry, and he told himself she wouldn't think anything of it. He would ask, she would tell, and he would get his meal. He refused to bend to her friendly manner. This in mind, he knocked sharply on the door.

* * *

A knock on the door startled Hermione from her relaxed concentration. So, he was going to ask, was he? She shoved her books under the bed. 

"Come in," she said, feeling important. He opened the door slightly and sidled in.

"Miss Granger," he began, aware that she was enjoying every second of his discomfort, "I wonder if I might enquire as to how you got your dinner tonight?" His face held a pained expression as though every second spent lowering himself to her was unhealthy. She smiled serenely and replied,

"You may, Sir, but I am surprised that a mind like yours has forgotten that I have already told you." His eyes narrowed and the scowl returned but she could tell the gears were turning in his head, in case her words held truth. Seeming to decide that they didn't, he said coldly,

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind repeating yourself." As a few seconds passed and he still looked likely to explode at anything she said, she decided to actually show him this time.

"If you'll follow me, Sir," she said brightly, exiting the room. As a side note she added, "Professor Snape would like some dinner… whatever you've got is fine."

"_'whatever you've got?'_ " he repeated incredulously. Hermione smiled.

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be fine," she commented, preceding him into the kitchen where a large plate of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding was currently waiting for them. He made no move to sit down.

"In my defence, Professor, I did say you only had to ask." He grunted. "Enjoy your meal, Sir." He sat down. As she was exiting she distinctly heard,

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

She felt like skipping. Maybe they could be civil to each other after all. It was a little bit of a long hope, but still…

* * *

Oh, good Lord. What had he just done? Only gone and thanked the Granger idiot! He was never going to be able to live that one down. I _Snape,_ /I he thought, I _this is exactly the reason you shouldn't have asked her._ /I But he couldn't help thinking that roast beef was his favourite and he had been very hungry. So what if he had to be civil to Granger? They lived together, after all. He did tire of shouting after a time – a very long time, admittedly, but a time. Perhaps civility was somewhat in his interests, if not his nature.

* * *

The morning came, bright but cold, to the house on the clifftop. Snape showered, dressed, ordered bacon and toast and returned to his transfiguration texts before Hermione dragged herself out of bed. I _Typical lazy Gryffindor,_ /I he thought. Then he realised he had been listening at her door for over a minute and should probably hex himself. What had got into him? 

It was half past nine. He had every right to be incredibly angry with Granger for still being in bed, but had a feeling she would ignore his words anyway. He decided to set up down in the lab and wait for her. But not before –

"GRANGER!" He followed this up by several hard raps on her door. There. She wouldn't be oversleeping again. Smiling smugly to himself, he descended the stairs.

Her head was hurting and the combination of loud noises Snape had just made didn't help. She rolled over to look at her watch on the bedside table. Half nine?! Oh… So he was probably right to be angry, then.

After a quick shower and an even quicker breakfast, she entered the lab, wondering what to say to a teacher known for his adoration of punctuality. As it happened, she was spared the effort.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," he said, a twisted smile snaking across his face. "So glad you could make it." Not knowing how to reply, she settled for,

"Sorry, Professor, I appear to have overslept. It won't happen again." He confused her with his changing moods.

"See that it doesn't," he said mildly, which further surprised her. "The headmaster wishes us to put all our efforts into developing a potion." From the way his expression shifted, she could tell the next part was the bit he particularly disliked. He cleared his throat. "There are a few things he neglected to instruct us in. Namely… what the potion is meant to do." Hermione said nothing. What was she meant to say? That was ridiculous!

"When the headmaster told me he didn't know some of the fine details, he was exaggerating slightly, then…" she trailed off.

"So it would seem." Snape seemed oddly calm.

"Does he really expect us to make something useful for the war?"

"I believe so, Miss Granger, yes."

"But that's absurd." The more she thought about it, the harder it got. "He's basically put us in charge of getting rid of Voldemort, then." If he flinched at the name, he hid it well.

"That would appear to be the case, considering we are unable to properly communicate with anyone else regarding tactics for a final confrontation." His expression was disdainful.

"He gave you a Protean-charmed parchment, though?"

"I believe he gave us one to share. I would like it left in the living room. I must ask you to alert me if there is something concerning us both, however. The last message written will remain on the parchment, but it holds no record of previous messages." He withdrew the scroll from his robes and handed it to her. "There appears to be a message from Potter on it, if I am not mistaken. Do kindly tell him that the Bat sends his regards." Hermione blushed.

"Should we write to Dumbledore?" she asked.

"No; I believe he wanted us to _'discuss it and see what we come up with.'_ "

"Isn't this all a bit ridiculous? I can't help feeling we're stabbing in the dark just a little. What about the horcruxes?"

"Dumbledore will not give me any information regarding those items, Miss Granger, and I would strongly prefer it if you were to not mention them again." Confused, she nodded. He continued as if she had not spoken.

"What we are tasked with is most probably some kind of barrier potion. Since we would not easily be able to give the enemy a potion, it would have to be used on your side." Hermione stared at him. Did he realise he'd said I her /I side? "I believe the most useful potion we may be able to make is a variant of the Felix Felicis. If we could build into it some kind of resistance to magic we could counter the effects of minor curses and maybe reduce the effects of stronger ones such as the Cruciatus." Hermione shook her head to clear it and decided to imagine that he'd said 'our side'. After all, right now it hardly mattered which side he counted himself with. He was stuck here with her and, while he was not kind, he was not hurting her. Clearly he did not have the mindset of a completely loyal Death Eater – either that or he had some horrible fate waiting for her some time down the line. She shivered.

"Miss Granger?" The voice was so gentle that she was shaken from her thoughts immediately.

"Yes, Professor," she replied, "I think the Felix Felicis could be very useful, if only there were a way to counter the addictiveness and make sure there would be no side effects." He nodded shortly.

"Though you are correct in your observations, I believe those things will not matter to us. The quantity to be consumed would be so minute that it could not possibly lead to addictiveness or the poisoning that can occur when an excessive amount is taken. The only risk then associated with the potion is that, if a drop too much is swallowed, huge overconfidence will follow. The drinker will become reckless; most definitely not helpful in a battle. However, if we measure carefully, there is no reason for anyone to take too much. We have, therefore, eliminated all the risks, have we not, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Sir. But won't adapting the potion to give resistance to magic make it weaker as a luck potion? If that happens, we won't know how much is the correct dosage." He nodded again, more sternly.

"This, I believe, is the most pressing issue. We will have to test the potion, but this could end up with us becoming addicted or even poisoned. We will begin by brewing the basic Felix potion, I think. That way, even if we do not manage to give it extra qualities, we will still have a batch, which could prove very valuable." He appeared to have run out of things to say so Hermione volunteered,

"Wouldn't it be safer to brew two potions – the Felix Felicis and then a spell blocking potion?" He considered for a moment and then said,

"It would be simpler to make, however, we would not know how the potions combine inside the body until we test them, which could prove fatal. It is always better to design a single potion, as two potions' reactions inside the body are slightly different every time. We would not want to risk poisoning someone, which could happen, even if the potion was safe for us." The girl before him nodded in understanding.

"Will we begin making the Felix potion today?" she asked. He picked a rather archaic looking text from the shelf and flipped to a page with a gold inlaid border.

"We start right away," he answered. "These are the instructions. Read them while I prepare the workspace." She complied silently and read through the text describing the potion and the brewing process. It was the most complicated thing she had ever read, requiring almost fanatical attention to detail and nearly constant supervision for over four weeks. A mistake made at any stage after the first few days would cause a deadly explosion releasing poisonous fumes.

"Do we have all these ingredients, Sir?" she inquired. "I know several are extremely rare, that's all." He looked up from adjusting the flame under his cauldron of water.

"We have them here, but not in great quantities. We will need to be careful. Right now we have no way to replace things we run out of." He paused, checking the water was boiling normally. "Would you find the ingredients, please, Miss Granger? I would like the first twenty in order of their addition to the potion lined up along the workbench." As she moved to obey his orders she distinctly heard a sigh. It seemed there was more to the man than met the eye. She would have to find out. In fact, if his slip of 'your side' was anything to go by, she quite badly I needed /I to find out. What was he thinking? Would he correctly brew the potion? Which side would he deliver it to? Her head was so full of questions she very nearly dropped the jar of armadillo bile she was carrying. She thought she'd been sent here to escape but instead it seemed she'd been sent into an entirely different set of problems. Problems that, if today was anything to go by, seemed altogether harder to handle than the ones she'd left behind.

* * *

a/n: thanks for the reviews so far! keep telling me what you think :) 


	3. Chapter 3

a/n: If you haven't yet got DH, buy it right now! It's officially brilliant! There won't be spoilers here but I may include various things included in the book - they won't be heavily plot-related to DH so it won't ruin it for you.

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

Severus was confused. He had existed for over twenty years without once questioning his morality. Why would he start now? He was out for himself and always had been. It was just sensible. With just you, there was no one to let you down, no traps; his survival was ensured. But just what was it he was surviving for? He had never once considered this.

The Granger girl – a puzzle as difficult as brewing the Felix Felicis. She was as sure that she was on the right side as a bird is sure that it can fly. She would die for her convictions or she would live in a world free of the Dark Lord. Was that how he should be? He supposed he would pick her side, if he had to choose, but it left him too vulnerable to the Dark Lord's supporters even if the Dark Lord fell. Lucius and the others would surely kill him for deserting even in the unlikely event of him surviving the war.

He tried to put the situation out of his mind. While he had never enjoyed killing or any other Death Eater activities, he almost prided himself on his lack of moral centre. It was not about to benefit him to develop one now, although Granger would probably try very hard to get answers from him. His slip earlier had definitely not gone unnoticed. Today he had taken a much closer look at himself than he wanted to. He had to admit he did not like what he saw.

* * *

Hermione was not naïve. She could see how the Dark Arts could have fascinated Snape as a teenager, given the problems he faced. What she could not understand was why he would still count himself a Death Eater. From what she knew of him, he was secretive and often unkind, but never cruel. He had told her his ideas regarding a potion for the Order, and seemed like he was intending to successfully brew it. She could only surmise from this that it was his aim to please each side equally, to ensure his own survival. He was selfish, yes, but knowing that he was unlikely to harm her at the present time was some comfort. 

The Felix Felicis was well known for being dangerous and almost impossible to brew. It was banned in competitions of any kind, but this was hardly necessary – most qualified Potions Masters could not brew it. It could be sold at an extortionate price, but Hermione doubted Snape was doing it for the money. At that moment, the potion was half way through the first simmering phase. The next ingredients would be added in several hours, after dinner. She remembered the Protean-charmed parchment and pulled it out of her robes. The message read:

_Hermione – how are you? We heard about Snape. How is he treating you? Tell us about the project as soon as you can. We miss you. Don't let the bat get you down._

She smiled and penned her reply.

_Don't worry about me; everything is fine here. We are brewing the Felix Felicis potion, which is so difficult you wouldn't even believe it! Snape wants to give it extra properties but it is going to be very hard. Will tell you more when I know it. He said the bat sends his regards, by the way. He's not been too bad today, after a bad start yesterday morning. Missing you both._

Contented, she went to place the parchment in the living room as her companion had requested.

* * *

When he reached the kitchen, Granger was eating some kind of salad. He was about to leave when she said, 

"Come and sit down, Professor, I'm nearly finished." Reluctantly he complied, knowing he had to eat now so he could add the next ingredients to the potion.

"Let's see how clever our little friends are, Miss Granger," he said, a scheming look coming into his eyes. "I would like whatever _the Boy Who Lived_ is having, if you please." He sneered at the name. No food arrived in front of him. He crossed his arms over his chest, smirking.

She had almost finished her salad when a large plate of cottage pie and vegetables appeared in front of Snape. He looked very surprised.

"Would Potter be likely to be eating this, Miss Granger?" he asked. With a mouth full of salad, she could only nod. Swallowing, she added,

"It's one of his favourites." Eyebrows raised, he began to eat the meal. "I'll go down and check on the potion," she added.

When she had been gone for a few seconds, a Viennese whirl appeared directly on top of the cottage pie. He sighed. His luck hadn't improved. He didn't even like the stupid confections - no doubt the Headmaster had known this when he set the password.

* * *

After she checked on the potion and added several more ingredients to the queue on the desk, she went into the living room. The parchment was now displaying the words: 

_Glad it's OK. We're trying to do some homework but Ron fell asleep in Charms and I don't really remember that much. We need you! Good luck with the Felix._

Shaking her head incredulously, she hastily replied,

_If you'd paid any attention you'd know to go to chapter three, if you're looking for anti-gravity charms. Enjoy the cottage pie? _

Smiling, she was about to see if Snape had finished his dinner, when the writing on the parchment changed.

_It was you!_

Perplexed, she penned,

_What was me?_

Harry was obviously scribbling furiously, because the reply was almost immediate.

_Dobby came in at dinner to ask what I was eating. Obviously he couldn't do it discreetly. Was a little embarrassing._

Hermione imagined the excitable elf showing up in the middle of dinner and laughed.

_Professor Snape will be pleased to know he can still disrupt your life from out here, I'm sure. Anyway, I have to check on the potion. Talk to you later._

She returned to the kitchen, where the Professor was engaging in a staring contest with the Viennese whirl. She giggled and he turned toward her, a scowl on his face.

"Would you care to eat this excuse for a cake, Miss Granger?" He glanced at the offending object with distaste.

"Actually, Professor, it's a biscuit." She laughed, which further irritated him. "It's a biscuit," she continued, "because it goes soft when it's stale. Cakes go hard, you know. My mother always-"

"Miss Granger, I do not care about your mother. I do not care whether it is a cake or a biscuit. I suggest you eat it quickly before I hex you; we have an important potion to make." He swept from the room.

She really did not want the biscuit. Her mood was not improved when a second whirl appeared next to the first. Sighing, she said softly,

"Do you think you could stop sending Viennese whirls? It's not that we're ungrateful, but we really can't eat them." As she left the room, a third biscuit appeared on the table. She knew the house elves understood her, so clearly there was something else going on. Personally she thought it was just the sort of thing the headmaster would find amusing.

* * *

The potion was exactly the right shade of harvest yellow. It would remain this colour for the next month until it developed the bright gold sheen it was known for. At the moment, the liquid was thin and almost oily. Stirring twelve times counter-clockwise, he added the armadillo bile and a sprig of peppermint. Carefully removing the stirring rod, he waited for fifteen seconds before turning up the heat and stirring a further ten times. 

At the moment, the brewing process was not difficult, but within the week it would become very tricky. At its most volatile stage, it would require constant attention. The Granger girl was going to have to be trusted with it, unless he could stay alert for over three days. He probably could, but she didn't have to know that. If she messed it up then he could blame her and the Order would be potionless, which would undoubtedly please the Dark Lord. That was one of the perks of being on two sides – someone was always pleased.

Turning the heat down to a normal level, he cleaned the stirring rod with a flick of his wand. Granger entered.

"Miss Granger," he began, "Do you believe yourself capable of handling this potion for a few hours next week? I shall need to sleep during the complex period of the brewing." It was almost sickening the way her chocolate eyes lit up at the prospect. In a bored tone he added, "I'm sure you're aware of the seriousness of any mistake over that phase." If anything, she appeared more excited. He could never fathom the way the Gryffindor mind worked. Shaken from his musing, he heard her say something about how she would manage perfectly. He was sure she hadn't addressed him as 'Sir', but didn't feel like correcting her. She looked so pretty standing there, her eyes so alive.

His mind was screaming at him. His conscience as a teacher was screaming at him. Something he didn't recognise, but could have been his conscience as a person, was screaming too. He resisted the urge to stagger under the weight of all the noise in his head. Evidently his face was registering something, as she was looking at him strangely while saying something he couldn't hear.

He couldn't look at her. Sweeping quickly from the room, he didn't hear her plea.

"If you'd only tell me what it is… I could help… I want to help."

* * *

He was disgusted with himself. Though the screaming had ceased, he couldn't stop thinking of her. The last time he'd thought of a woman as pretty, it hadn't gone well. In fact, it was one of the things that pushed him to the Death Eaters. Lily Evans was not so different from Hermione Granger. Perhaps this new Gryffindor would redeem him as the other had convicted him. 

The screaming had begun again. In just a few seconds he had referred to Granger as a woman, and wondered at the prospect of her redemption. It was almost laughable; even if her Gryffindor idiocy meant she would listen to him, she could surely never love someone of his character and background.

Now he was talking of love! It was stupid and moreover, it was_ wrong_ to think of her like that, despite their current situation. Exhausted, he collapsed gracelessly onto the bed and fell uneasily into a doze.

* * *

In her bedroom, Hermione let out a squeak of excitement. She had just made a breakthrough in her search to become an animagus, she was sure of it. Although she knew it would take time from this point to master the new coordination, she was glad to be getting somewhere. 

He had acted oddly earlier. He had looked at her like she was someone else – someone he admired as much as she admired him. Though she held no illusions that this was what he really felt, it had been oddly flattering. She had never much minded, or indeed really considered, what her Professors thought about her in any way that wasn't academic. The way he looked at her sent her mind reeling through scenarios she had never thought about before.

She realised she had just admitted to admiring him, and her eyes widened. Certainly, from what she knew about him now, he was nothing to be admired. He was, at best, a coward, but perhaps that judgement was too harsh. Clearly he had been treated badly through most of his life and was only trying to survive. If Harry's penseive memories of the young Severus were anything to go by, he had been treated badly by people on her side. For him to even consider working for the Order right now showed he had some sense of what was right, even if he had joined Dumbledore all those years ago just to save his own neck.

It might just be her bookish nature, but she had always found it hard to stop thinking about any boy – or man – who looked at her as a woman. When Victor had returned to Bulgaria, she had missed him terribly and cried for days, even though she had always known it couldn't work between them.

Feeling tired from the effort of trying to transfigure herself, she got ready for bed. Now, she told herself, was not a good time to be developing a stupid schoolgirl crush.

* * *

Not wanting to be late to help add the next ingredients to the potion, Hermione was up at seven that morning. Showering and breakfasting, she spoke the password and entered the lab. Though she'd eaten one of the Viennese whirls, there were still several left on the counter going decidedly soft. Crookshanks, like the Potions master, disdainfully turned his nose up at them. He wasn't a picky cat, but he wasn't like a dog that would eat anything. Shame. 

She wondered if she ought to see where the Professor was. The next ingredient was due to be added in eight minutes and he was nowhere to be seen.

There was no movement behind his door when she gave in with five minutes to go and went to find him.

"Professor Snape?" she called. There was still no movement. She called again, a little louder, and returned to the lab.

* * *

He felt, leaving his dream, like he was being pulled from somewhere deep underwater. Not for a long time had he slept quite so soundly. Hazily he knew that his dream had contained Hermione, that he had loved her - that he had been happy - but he did not remember the details. 

Crap. Not only had he been practically fantasising over a student – a friend of the boy-who-he-hated, at that – but she had cemented herself in his brain as Hermione. It was a recipe for disaster that seemed completely beyond his control. He didn't even like her… she was just an annoying Gryffindor friend of Potter's! _Doesn't that sound familiar?_ He thought. It seemed he was destined to fall for women who preferred a Potter to him.

There he went, calling her a woman again. It was stupid. As if on cue, he heard her voice calling his name. It was rather louder than the distance between them required, so perhaps she had called him before. He groaned and got up, wondering what the time was. The reversal of roles seemed rather ironic; luckily for him, she hadn't felt the need to bang on his door as well as call him.

* * *

Though she did not know his sleeping habits, it seemed very odd for a man of his punctuality to oversleep. Something was bothering him and, irrationally, she _really_ wanted to know what it was. Now, though, there were more important things to deal with. She took the stirring rod and opened the jars containing star grass, moonseed and ginger root. With little over two minutes to go, she counted fifteen shoots of star grass and cut them to an even length. She selected seven averagely sized moonseeds and straightened out the ginger root with shaking hands, chopping it into four neat sections. With twenty seconds to go, she put the jars to one side and took a deep breath. 

Exactly on time, the potion shimmered and began to thicken rapidly. Lowering the heat she evenly distributed the star grass, waited until it had disappeared and then stirred twenty times clockwise. No change was visible on the potion's surface but she knew to wait a short time to add the moonseeds.

Seven seconds precisely are needed between the additions of each moonseed to the potion. She counted carefully, dropping the neat little seeds into the centre of the cauldron and watching them disappear. Quickly she turned up the heat to a boil and added the ginger root, stirring four times counter-clockwise.

After a minute or so the potion stopped thickening, so she stirred the required twelve times clockwise, turned down the heat to a simmer and began to clear up. All in all, she thought, it had gone well. It was lucky for both of them that she was astute enough to read the upcoming blocks of instructions carefully.

Once the stirring rod was clean, the potion was completely stable and the next three ingredients were added to the end of the queue, Hermione paused long enough to notice Professor Snape standing in the corner a few metres away. She jumped slightly, but tried not to show it.

"P-professor?" she asked tentatively. "You startled me." When he did not reply she felt he was waiting for something. "I'm sorry that I added the ingredients to the potion, Sir, it's just that you weren't anywhere about and I didn't want anything to go wrong-" She halted as he held up his hand. The amused expression on his face told her she had switched to rant mode and had been speaking unintelligibly fast, the way she often did.

"You did well, Miss Granger, I apologise. I appear to have slept late, which is inexcusable, although it does prove that you will be capable of adding some ingredients next week while I am unable to do so." Her eyes were alive again and he forced himself to look away.

"Thank you, Professor Snape." She was polite, but the smile on her face showed her delight at his praise. He found himself wanting to praise her so he could see it again. She spoke again, but he wasn't listening. She exited, leaving him with a head full of questions and reasons why he shouldn't be thinking the way he was.

* * *

He sat in quiet meditation, mind for once devoid of thoughts of _her_. It was wrong on so many levels that thinking about it made his head hurt. Because of this, he had gone to the only sanctuary he had ever known – a book. He felt he was closer to becoming an Animagus; inching slowly towards it. Now he was able to both relax his mind and concentrate, he was moving forward. It was almost exciting, wondering what form he would take. He refused to think that the best he deserved was probably a slug, or some other completely useless creature. 

He had forgotten, in the middle of all the happenings of the last few days, his reasons for wanting to escape. He had wanted to visit the Dark Lord - tell him about the potion and what he was going to do to make sure it weakened the Order. Now, in this safe house with a young woman who seemed to tolerate his presence, he wasn't sure he wanted to return. His running between both sides had been for one reason: survival. Now survival had been handed to him on a plate. Granted, Lucius and the others might still kill him after, but he would escape the battle and therefore escape having to choose a side. If he was lucky he might even be able to convince the Death Eaters that Dumbledore had trapped him.

There were so many reasons to stay and help the girl and her cause, not many of them for the sake of that cause, but that hardly mattered. Still, he might as well continue trying to become an Animagus. It had been a while since his mind had been properly stretched by something.

* * *

Stroking Crookshanks idly, she reread for the hundredth time the chapter regarding Animagi in her advanced transfiguration text. She felt on the verge of a breakthrough, but didn't know how to advance the last step. It was frustrating. Unlike the 'exact art' of potion brewing, transfiguration was hazy. Her mind was buzzing in a familiar way that told her she wouldn't be able to sleep until she achieved what she wanted.

* * *

There was an unfamiliar energy rushing through him, and he knew he had almost transformed. It was oddly exciting, though he didn't really recognise that particular feeling. He focused again more completely, letting the magic surge through his mind - half alert and half relaxed. When the change came, he felt only a tiny shift in himself. Whatever he had become was not another form but an extension of the old one. He realised his eyes were closed and opened them. 

The room was almost dark; the sun had set and only the moon shone through the gap in the curtains. Without pausing to study his reflection in the mirror, he bounded toward the door.

* * *

The air was cold as it hit her form, though she felt insulated against it. She padded softly towards the gate, somehow surprised when the wards did not stop her passing. She paused just the other side of the path and sat for a moment. Deciding to walk just a little way away from the cottage, she unfolded and found herself face-to-face with a large shape.

* * *

a/n: Thanks for reviews, again, I'm pleased people are enjoying the story! 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting this. I've been away etc etc, but here it is. I've been thinking about DH Snape and decided that I will make mine mostly compliant. There still won't really be any spoilers here, though.

---

CHAPTER FOUR

He was furious. His anger was so tremendous that nobody dared look at him; that at least was how it should be. _Snape_. The word, even as a thought in his head, seemed acidic. The memory of him had the ability to poison.

There had been no word from his spy for days though he had been calling and calling him. The plan was failing. Whether the old man had trapped him or Snape had asked to be trapped he did not know, but the deserter would pay either way.

His larger plan would have to wait for the revenge he desired so much.

---

Hermione jumped, startled, and the shape withdrew slightly. In the dim light she could make out only that it was a large feline creature. She opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a squeaking sound. As she was currently an otter, this should not have surprised her as much as it did.

Her mind had not quite caught up with her – whether this was due to her form or just the strangeness of the situation, she didn't know. Feeling dazed, she took a few steps away from the gate. Her companion followed, several paces behind.

She had no idea where they were going; it was too dark to see anything much. Invigorated by the night and the freedom she began to run, her sleek form carrying her quickly over the ground despite her short legs. Behind her the soft padding of heavy paws told her that his pace had quickened too.

A flash of green light in front of her forced her to stop dead. She felt something hit her in the back but before she could analyse it soft jaws were closing around her body and lifting her into the air.

She wriggled, pushing at the creature's mouth with her tiny paws. It growled slightly, agitated, and began to run with urgent bounds back in the direction they had come.

By the flashes of spell-light she could see a rapidly closing circle of cloaked figures: Death Eaters. Why were they attacking? Wasn't Snape on their side? Did they think he had left them? Through the centre they ran blindly, wildly, dodging hexes and curses.

The gate: once they were behind it they would be safe. It was nowhere in sight.

She began to squeak and struggle in earnest until he was forced to drop her. His shape ran on, frantically trying to find the entrance while being wary of the cliff they must be near. A red light came dangerously close and she froze, fearful. To locate their cottage she was sure she had to be in her human form. She had to have a human level of conscious thought; she had to _need _to return.

Crouching in fear was going to get her nowhere and all the time her companion was out there running for his life. She sank into a deep concentration, desperate to return to her human form.

Whether her need helped her or whether changing back was easier, she didn't know. It seemed to take an age for her limbs to lengthen and her fur to change to skin.

She was on her hands and knees with loud voices all around. They were coming after her and she stumbled forwards, trying to focus on her need to find the house. Suddenly the shape was alongside her again and they were crossing the path, diving through the still-open gate.

They fell to the ground and a last jet of light illuminated the leopard that was now Severus Snape. He was breathing heavily but looked to be largely unharmed. She reached into her robes and drew out her wand.

"Lumos," she whispered.

The sounds and sights of the attack had faded and, in the wandlight, nothing was visible beyond the gate. She knew that they were still there, but apparently the wards prevented them from seeing out as much as it prevented others from seeing in.

"Are you hurt?" His voice was rough but not unkind.

"N-no," she replied shakily. A few slicing hexes had come very close but luckily the only thing that really hurt was the back of her neck where he had grabbed her Animagus form. "Thank you for picking me up, Professor. You're not hurt?" He shook his head, clambering to his feet.

"Get inside, Miss Granger. And-" he paused, grimacing, "Don't go outside that gate again if you don't want to get yourself killed." She nodded, wearily standing up and trudging into the cottage.

---

Safely tucked up in bed with Crookshanks, Hermione let her mind wander over the events of the evening. She had come up here to her Transfiguration books after dinner, as usual, but one thing had been different. As her mind relaxed that last fraction she could feel her body changing. When the transformation was complete she looked down at her small otter-paws and was disappointed for a fraction of a second. Though she had known most people's Animagus forms were the same as their Patronuses, she had wished she'd become something a little more exotic. Nevertheless, she was proud of herself and did like her new sense of smell, sleek body and long tail.

Desperate to see if she could get through the wards she had ventured into the garden. She had hardly been there for a minute, however, when she was joined by another form. It had taken her a while to realise who it was and even longer to work out _what_ it was. Her eyesight had worsened with her change, unlike his, and the dim light hadn't helped.

A leopard! She wouldn't have guessed it in a million years, despite his grace of movement and predatorial qualities. Somehow she would have expected something a little more dramatic; a raven, perhaps, or maybe even a black big cat of some sort.

Then had come the attack. Looking back, she couldn't believe how stupid she'd been to go so far from the gate, especially in the dark. Not only that, but they'd now given away the exact position of their house. It was a disaster on all sides, really, and she couldn't understand why he hadn't at least shouted at her for it. She would have deserved it, for once.

The only reason she could think of was that he was simply too busy with his own thoughts and wanted to get rid of her as quickly as possible. Had he known Voldemort was after him? Perhaps Dumbledore only sent him with her because he'd been found out. But Snape couldn't have been found out because he wasn't on either side.

Hermione sighed and tried to empty her mind enough to sleep. The whole situation was far too complicated for her to bother unravelling, especially after midnight. Anyway, at least now she knew that he would have to stay with her unless he wanted to get killed. Why she found this comforting she didn't quite understand. She decided that, from tomorrow, she would do her best to try and get on with him. She realised with a jerk that she had almost subconsciously been looking for friendship. Perhaps, in time, that could be achieved.

---

The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that Dumbledore had deliberately trapped him. Why the man would have lost faith in him after all this time, he didn't know. Maybe he had never had much faith in the first place. One thing was clear – Voldemort was looking for him, and it wasn't to invite him round for dinner. Why? Severus was sure when he'd last seen the Dark Lord that he had been in his favour. That could only mean that, since then, he was believed to have deserted the cause.

This, in turn, could only mean that he had refused to come to the Dark Lord when he had been summoned. But he had not been summoned. The mark on his arm was as dull as it had been after the Potter boy resisted the Killing Curse as a baby. He wondered in passing whether Dumbledore's wards had somehow blocked the connection made by the mark. It didn't ought to be possible but with Dumbledore he had learned that anything was possible.

Not for the first time, he felt caught up in something much bigger than him. He wasn't worried; whatever happened, he would live through the war or die in it and that would be the end of everything. For the moment, though, he was stuck here and he would try to start again. Hermione – or Granger, or whatever – would make amiable enough company if he just put his mind to seeking it. He couldn't believe he was having those thoughts, especially with her being a Gryffindor, but he had not always sought solitude. In this house he had no standard to upkeep and no façade to put on. He did not have to please the Dark Lord or Dumbledore or people like Lucius Malfoy.

His thoughts turned back to the evening and Animagi. He had been surprised at Hermione's form; he had expected something typical like a lioness. That said, he had been surprised at his own. His Patronus, a doe, served as a reminder of his love for Lily. He had known, or hoped, that he would not become a stag like that idiot Potter. He felt his attachment to Lily was not strong enough for that anymore. The leopard, he could only suppose, came from his own soul – like Hermione's otter. It wasn't what he expected but he liked it all the same.

After the marathon he'd had to run earlier and the marathon his thoughts had run afterwards, he was beginning to feel tired. Undressing, he crawled into bed and fell to sleep almost immediately.

---

She drifted awake gradually and lay still for a moment, finding the strength to drag herself into a vertical position. Her neck was annoyingly sore and she really, really wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. It seemed an age since she had woken up in her Head Girl's room and gone to breakfast with Ron and Harry. She missed them more every day though she doubted they had much noticed her absence – except maybe when they wanted to copy her notes.

Placing an indignant Crookshanks on the floor she climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

She was rinsing shampoo from her hair and humming softly when the door burst open unceremoniously and a scantily clad Professor Snape entered.

He jumped and went decidedly red, turning around.

"Miss Granger!" he boomed. "I'll thank you to lock the door next time!" She watched him leave hurriedly and resisted the urge to laugh. Luckily she was mostly hidden behind the shower screen. Why had she not locked the door? She must have got out of the habit when she'd had a bathroom to herself. Making sure all the soap was out of her hair she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a towel. She'd never much liked drying charms.

Professor Snape was standing awkwardly in the hallway in what looked like green boxers, clutching a towel. Hermione noticed there was still a hint of red colouring his pale cheeks.

"Sorry, Professor," she said brightly, "Won't happen again. Shower's all yours." He made a gruff noncommittal noise and headed for the bathroom.

She sighed. He had definitely become much easier to live with since the first day but there was still a way to go on the friendship score. Maybe, she thought, about the distance from the Earth to the Moon. Still, an improvement was an improvement.

Downstairs she found a message from the Headmaster on the parchment.

_I hope you aren't hurt? It was foolish of you to breach the wards. I hope you have learned your lesson – I would have expected more from both of you. AD. _

Should she leave the message for Snape? She decided it was aimed at them both and penned her reply.

_I'm sorry, Headmaster, it was my fault. I just wanted the challenge and I felt so caged. I was stupid. I promise I won't go out again. HG._

Not expecting a reply, she was surprised when her neat letters were replaced by Professor Dumbledore's small, slanted handwriting.

_I understand, Hermione. I am sorry that I had to do this to you, but I hope you will stay inside the gate for now. I trust the project is coming along as planned?_

_Yes, sir. I don't know if we're going to try and add extra properties to the potion. I hope Professor Snape will let me help as much as I can; I want to try and do something useful._

_Thank you, my dear. I shall speak to Severus. Speaking of Severus, do you think you could leave my next message on here? I'd rather like to hear what he says about last night._

_Certainly, Professor._

There was a long pause where her Headmaster was clearly trying to remember what he had written first. Then the original message reappeared and she left it to get some breakfast.

---

"-two turns clockwise…" He stood behind her, ready to take action if she made a mistake. She obeyed him silently though she already knew the instructions by heart. His voice so close to her ear was having an odd effect on her and more than once she very nearly lost her concentration.

When the stage was completed she lowered the flame and cleaned the stirring rod. When he did not direct her otherwise, she consulted the book and went to add more ingredients to the end of the queue.

He was watching her intently and she wondered what he was thinking. After she had restocked the queue he said,

"We should get some lunch, Miss Granger. We must be back here in twenty minutes." She nodded and left the room in front of him. At the top of the steps she was forced to clamber over a large trunk that he had put there in order to stop the door closing.

"Honestly," she complained, "Isn't it almost better to have the Viennese Whirls? I can't help thinking there's got to be some risk associated with barricading the door like this." Hopping over the trunk decidedly more gracefully than she had managed, he raised an eyebrow and said,

"Perhaps you just feel your climbing ability is inferior to mine, Miss Granger?" She glared half-heartedly and shot back,

"I should think you should be better than me, Professor, what with me being an otter and you being… what was it? Obviously I couldn't see very well in the dark… but you were distinctly like a lion. Quite Gryffindor, wouldn't you say?" The look he gave her would have curdled milk.

"I would have thought even you, Miss Granger, would be able to distinguish between a lion and a cheetah." She looked up gleefully.

"Oh, but I can. It seems it's _you_ with the problem. I'd have thought, what with you being a teacher, that you'd know the difference between a leopard and a cheetah. You see, cheetahs have-" She was cut off by an angry exclamation.

"Miss Granger!" Snape was shouting but it was obvious his heart wasn't really in it. "I don't care what cheetahs have! As far as I'm concerned, I was a large cat-like animal with spots and a tail and we now have sixteen minutes in which to have lunch!" Smiling, she followed him into the kitchen.

---

He lay on his bed, savouring the forty-three minutes he had spare before the next phase of brewing. So far, plan get-on-with-Hermione was going well. Sadly, plan stop-thinking-about-Hermione-in-an-inappropriate-way was not going so well. If he didn't know better he'd swear she'd navigated that box – twice – in the most arousing way possible. Both times he'd been faced with a brilliant view of her rear end in jeans that were just bordering on being too tight. And this morning in the bathroom… all he could hope was that she thought the shower screen had hidden her.

He listened to her crossing the landing, tunefully singing something about not wanting the world to see her. _Well, she got her wish here, _he thought. He wouldn't have imagined her to be musical, but not many people were at Hogwarts where Muggle devices for listening to music didn't work.

There was a scrabbling at the door and he opened it to find a rather adorable otter peering up at him.

"Mreep?" He frowned, wondering what that was supposed to mean. "Meep-mreep?" This elaboration didn't make things any clearer. The otter was standing on her hind legs now, staring up at him.

"What d'you want?" he asked. "And what am I meant to call you? Miss Granger hardly seems appropriate."

"Meep."

"How about 'Otter'?"

"Meep…" This he took as a disgruntled affirmative. Her paws – if they could be called paws, as they were webbed – were now batting his leg gently. As he watched, she did what he was sure was meant to be an impression of a lion. He raised an eyebrow.

"You want me to change?"

"Meep!" He frowned. He felt a bit odd conversing with an otter.

"I can't imagine your reasons. I must warn you that if you make me late for that potion I'll hex you into next week, Hermione Granger." In a second a leopard stood in his place. With a joyous chorus of 'Meep meep meep!' the otter raced off. He rolled his eyes and followed.

He took the stairs in one bound and waited haughtily and the bottom while she took them in tiny steps. Her legs were so charmingly short! She was letting out what he was sure was a string of otter swear words when she tripped slightly and tumbled the rest of the way down.

He pushed her to her feet with his nose and continued on, liking how he could take one step to her three. When they reached the garden he started to run, laughing at her futile attempt to keep up.

Running round the house it was a while before he realised she was no longer following. He called out and it came out as a small growling sound. Giving up, he was about to look in the house for her when there was a loud 'M-reep!' and she jumped out at him, dancing round in circles and clearly grinning. He batted at her with his paw and she ducked teasingly.

He batted at her again, only to find she'd returned to her human form. She caught his paw, laughing.

"Bad kitty!" she said. Then as an afterthought she added, "Those claws are sharp, you know." She could have sworn he rolled his eyes. She patted him on the head; his fur was soft under her fingers. He growled and changed back to a crouched Professor Snape. She backed off to a respectful distance and he said,

"It would serve you well to note I am _not _a domestic kitten, Miss Ott- I mean, Miss Granger." She laughed.

"I am aware of that, Professor, but you're just so endearingly like one. It's hardly my fault you turn into something so cuddly." He looked as if the word 'cuddly' might kill him, so she added, "Did you see the Headmaster's message this morning?" Nodding, he got to his feet and went inside.

---

"I don't suppose, Otter, in your infinite wisdom that you know something useful we can do with fourteen stale Viennese Whirls?" The small animal sat up on her hind legs and took one of the biscuits from him. Sniffing it carefully, she took a small bite. He laughed as she fought to swallow, coughed slightly and nonchalantly replaced the confection on the table.

Did he realise he'd laughed, she wondered? Coming back to her human form she said,

"I think those are even worse as an animal, no wonder Crookshanks won't eat them… Of course, being stale doesn't help either."

"I should imagine not." He was still smiling – an odd expression, like he wasn't used to it, but nice nevertheless. "The potion is nearly into the complicated phase; I should like us to go down there." She nodded and followed him out of the room.

It had been an odd day, she thought as she waited for him to hop gracefully over the trunk. He seemed to treat her almost as an equal when they were in animal form. This behaviour did seem almost to be starting to occur all the time, too. This new side of Severus Snape, she decided, she liked very much. Coming here, apart from the attack, was turning out almost as fun as staying at Hogwarts. Hopefully he would let her help with the brewing through this next phase. The war was coming - surely it would not be far off – but at the moment there was no time for worrying. She was safe here, for now, and somehow she trusted him.


End file.
